“Nope,” she pops thep.“I knew it was bad. I didn’t know the extent. But he knew. He knew every single second was precious at that point. And he spent them with me.

“He loved you.”

“And she lovedyou.”

21

EMMETT

Arush runs through me as we climb into the car. I don’t know what I was thinking inviting her to go on the drive, but whatever it was, I’m kicking myself for it.

“You buckled?” I say with a smile.

For both of us crying just a few moments ago, I sure feel a rush of adrenaline now. “Yeah,” she says, sounding unsure.

I start the car with a roar, shifting into gear. With a sharp breath out, I press the gas pedal, the rumble of the engine sending shivers down my spine.

I bought this car on a whim a couple of months back. I’ve been fixing up old cars here and there and selling them, but when I saw this car on the marketplace, I knew that I wanted to fix her to keep.

“We’ll just go down the road and come right back,” I tell Heidi, who grips the side of her seat beside me, her eyes wide with fear.

Okay. The car is a bit rickety, that’s true. She sounds like she may blow up at any second. But she’s working, she’s driving, and that’s a huge step.

While the radio plays some old rock song, the rumbling seems to die down. I turn through our gate that blocks off the community, and take a left onto the main road that runs past it.

“You ready?” I ask with a smile.

“No,” Heidi says, squeezing her eyes shut.

Without delay, I hit the gas as hard as I can, sending us flying down the road.

And it’s the best feeling I’ve felt in a long time. The adrenaline rushing through my veins, the roar of the engine and the feeling of something so powerful underneath me.

As we take a right and head down a hill, we have our first problem as the engine jumps.

“Fuck,” I say under my breath.

Heidi’s head whips toward me. “What?”

“Nothing!” I say as a cover, but I know we’re about to be in trouble.

“Emmett Gardner tell me what the fuck is happening.”

“The engine just keeps cutting in and out,” I grit as I pull off to the side of the road. Turning off the car, I wait a couple seconds before turning the key once more.

But it catches, the engine clicking.

Why.

Why must this happen now.

But I know I fucked up. I should have just driven through the neighborhood first. I shouldn’t have pushed it. I definitely shouldn’t have floored it, and I really shouldn’t have driven it down a damn hill, because how the hell am I going to get it back up?

Sure, the thing can be pushed. But not two miles, and certainly not up a hill as steep as the one we’re at the base of.

“Well,” I say as I sit back, running my hand through my hair. “We need help.”

We’re sitting right next to a large field, and although the trees on the other end of it block a lot of the sunset, it’s viewable.